


Night Cuddle Monster

by PrincessDianaArtemis



Series: OTP-Tober [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Camping, Cold Weather, Friendship/Love, M/M, Merlin is So Done (Merlin), Morning Cuddles, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sleepy Cuddles, hunting trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDianaArtemis/pseuds/PrincessDianaArtemis
Summary: Merlin has discovered the hard way that his prince has a tendency to cuddle - and Arthur is none the wiser.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: OTP-Tober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948099
Comments: 10
Kudos: 380





	Night Cuddle Monster

If there was one thing that Merlin hated, it was extended hunting trips with the knights. The squeals of dying animals as the meatheaded men around him would give cries of victory. As his magic grew stronger, it felt like he could feel them dying, like the earth was showing him how their life-light disappeared from the world. 

On hunts like these, Arthur would make fun of him to arouse laughter from the younger knights, only stopping when Leon shot him a scolding look which had them all look a little more apologetic.

But there were some hunting trips that weren’t terrible - those he went on where it were he and Arthur alone. 

On these overnight excursions, Arthur would let a few animals escape the traps at the littlest sound that escaped Merlin’s mouth when he saw the pitying look on the creature’s face. And the two would settle down for the night without catching anything, bedrolls close enough to lie side by side looking up at the stars overhead. 

However, on one of those nights, when the weather drove them into the warmth of a nearby cave, a strange occurrence started popping up. The night started off similarly to most, bedrolls pressed side-by-side to keep away the chill that descended upon them.

“Merlin,” drawled Arthur, voice sleep heavy. “Don’t think this is gonna be the norm now, it’s just because of the chilliness of the night.”

And sleep-drowned himself, Merlin mumbled his acceptance, huddled into the warmth of his blankets and let the brushes of the sandman take him towards dreams.

The next morning, Merlin felt a warm brand against his back and a light brushing against the hairs at his nape. Cold breeze from in front of him brought him snuggling back towards the warmth, then, as realization seeped into his awakening mind, brought him rolling out of the mouth of the cave.

Arthur woke up at the sound of Merlin’s pained hiss. He raised his head, hair sticking in every direction, as he took in his manservant rubbing his head.

“Honestly, Merlin,” he said, squinting his eyes towards him. “Are you clumsy even in your sleep?”

Merlin gaped at him, “But you - and I - and it was just - Oh, never mind it, you clotpole, just get up will you? The sooner we get this trip over, the sooner we can get back to the castle.”

Sharp, blue eyes turned to him, “Are you saying you’re having a terrible time with me?”

“I could do without the sounds of dying animals, yeah,” said Merlin, then turned and noticed the almost imperceivable pout, “But I guess it’s not the  _ worst _ thing in the world to be stuck with you for a couple of days.”

A small smile curled Arthur’s lips in the other direction of his pout, “Get used to it, Merlin. You’re my manservant until the day one of us dies.”

-

It would’ve been easy for Merlin to dismiss the incident as something in passing. 

_ Just a heat-seeking leech and the closest form of heat. Nothing more than that. And he doesn’t even remember, so that’s that _ , he thought to himself as he turned herbs into polluces at Gaius’ bequest. 

The physician for his part, kept looking over and expecting the ground herbs that had crossed from fine-ground to completely powdered. 

Yes, Merlin could’ve easily counted it as a mistake and kept going with his life. 

Except -  _ it kept happening _ .

The cold weather of that mid-autumn night would’ve been understandable, as was the following trip in early-winter with the flurries that had them hidden deep in a fire-lit cave. The morning after that trip, Merlin had woken up to arms tightly wound around his middle as Arthur’s soft snores whistled against his neck. That had taken a minor bout of magic to uncoil him from the man’s grip. Arthur, for his part, still didn’t remember his vice-gripped sleep - and Merlin was more than grateful for that.

But once the heat-crawling Spring arrived and he found himself with Arthur, not tucked tight against his back, but with their legs tangled and a hand over his heart, Merlin begun to realize that this wasn’t something that the cold brought - he just had a cuddly prince on his hands.

And the worst part is, he couldn’t say anything.

“How would that even go?” he asked himself aloud one night, pacing the longer length of his room. “Arthur, I think you should know - you have a terrible tendency to cuddle in your sleep. How would I know? Oh, just the fact that  _ I’m the one you’re cuddling _ . Yep. That will send me straight to the stocks or dungeon.”

So Merlin just resigned himself to being cuddled by his prince and for said prince to be none the wiser - that is, until almost a year later as the summer heat began to unwind in splashes of red and orange. 

-

The long, and painfully empty-handed, hunt wound down with the sound of the night-birds overhead. Arthur, tired and disappointed, had Merlin setting up camp while he brooded in the darkness. 

“C’mon, you’ve had worse hunts,” said Merlin, trying to cheer him up. “Watch. Tomorrow, they’ll be plenty of little creatures for you to massacre to your heart’s content.”

Arthur snorted, “For someone who loves taking bits of my food, you sure talk big about killing the animals that feed you. Besides, it’s not the hunting - it’s the meaning. It’s the harvest-time. I should be showing that I’m a capable provider.”

This time, it was Merlin that snorted, “That’s quite an antiquated way of thinking, Arthur. King’s haven’t had to put food on the table in years - just, enjoy this for what it is.”

“Which is?”

“You. Getting time away from the castle to just be Arthur instead of the Prince.”

Arthur gave a hum that meant he’d thought Merlin had made a good point, then stretched his arms over his head, “It’s time to get some sleep. We should get up early and - and make the most of the day tomorrow.”

Merlin agreed with a little nod and the two set up their bedrolls, as always, close enough to draw heat from one another, but far away to not cross any line. For his part, Merlin was resigned to wake-up the next morning with Arthur pressed tight against his back if the weather was anything to go by - and it usually was.

The next morning, Merlin woke up to just what he imagined and sighed. It was still early, too early to rouse the sleeping royal against him, so he settled in for a few more minutes of sleep.

Arthur stirred with the freckling of the sun across his face. He scrunched up his nose and lamented the lack of a curtain - or tent - to hide him away from the light and buried his nose deeper into the scratchy pillow in his arms. 

Then he froze, eyes opening to take in his surroundings.

Forest canopy overhead, the feel of his rough bedroll underneath him and his arms tight against soft material, hard surface, and something moving steadily against his hand. He inhaled, sharp, and the breath brought with it the scent of sweat and herbs that stuck to the skin - and apparently hair - of Merlin.

For his part, Merlin wasn’t moving, little snores whistling through his nose as Arthur tensed against him. Despite the tension that steadied his spine, his hand remained against Merlin’s steady heartbeat and he made no move to untangle his legs from where they’d trapped the longer, thinner pair in place. 

He bit back the groan that threatened his mouth as he realized that this was on  _ him _ . Memories of his governess waking him up to untangle him from her hip, of Gaius having to pry himself away when Arthur was young and sick, and now of Merlin pressed tight against him.

The breeze swept up over the forest floor, bringing a shiver to both of them and Arthur pressed against the homey smell of Merlin’s nape. 

_ A few more minutes won’t hurt,  _ he thought and let himself be lulled back to sleep by the warmth and the rhythmic beating of their hearts against each other. 

When Merlin woke him up, he didn’t mention anything about the cuddling, and Arthur wasn’t about to mention it himself, so the two went along their day keeping their comfortable secret to themselves.

After all. It wasn’t hurting anyone.


End file.
